Let the name of this Norwegian duo fool you if you wish, just don’t blame anyone else when you crack open the whiskey on a sob-soaked, just-been-dumped evening and instead of being saturated in cry-baby blues, you get a face-full of nasty, grimy, slimey, LSD-spiked psychedelic grind. This is brutal, yes, but blues? Nah, not so much. Feedback swims and claws, riffs bump and grind, drums slam and annihilate, vocals scream and shout and echo endlessly over an array of weird and wonderful and what-the-fuck sounds that may very well be pilfered from any old games machine or some drug-fuelled happening in late-60s London or an experimental electronic musical instrument company’s waste bin.

Sound like a mess? Well, yeah it is. But it’s a good mess. A very good mess that flies by, licks, slaps and punches you in the the face, leaving you wondering what the hell it was. And the only way to find out is to press play again and listen to every tiny detail. Such chaotic contagion should be free to contaminate us all! And the highest officials of the land should perch themselves on the highest buildings in the land and sing the highest praise. There you go, praise given. And rightly so. Buy the bastard now!